


there's nothing quite like midnight bonding moments with a little blood on top (it's mostly not mine, don't worry)

by crimesiscrying



Series: sbi modern fantasy au fuckers [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adoptive Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Family Bonding, Fluff and Angst, Found Family Dynamics, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Hybrid Wilbur Soot, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mentioned Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Toby Smith | Tubbo and Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot Is Going Through It, Winged Wilbur Soot, fairy wilbur soot, nobody uses them they just think wil did it's chill, rated T for That's A Lot Of Blood, technoblade is an actually functional older brother, the whole gang are hybrids, they're dragonfly wings but they still count
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29656119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimesiscrying/pseuds/crimesiscrying
Summary: When Wilbur walks through his newest foster family's front door at 3am, tired, bloody and bruised, Technoblade is waiting for him to get back, ready to patch him up. This family, in Wilbur's opinion, is far too good for something like him.-alternatively I finally managed to write something for the sbi modern fantasy au that's been festering in my brain for a while now enjoy
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Series: sbi modern fantasy au fuckers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179233
Comments: 6
Kudos: 182





	there's nothing quite like midnight bonding moments with a little blood on top (it's mostly not mine, don't worry)

**Author's Note:**

> ah yes the completely original never before seen sleepy bois inc modern fantasy au i am the pinnacle of human invention anyway if you're interested in this au, i'm planning to post more stories relating to it because i have The Sleepy Bois Inc brain rot and it's incurable so hope you enjoy

Wilbur stumbled up the driveway of his foster family’s home, painfully aware of both the late hour and the fact that he looked like complete and utter shit. There probably were more eloquent ways to put it, but frankly, Wilbur’s head felt like it was going to split and he wasn’t sure if he’d had a single coherent thought since leaving the house earlier that night, so any poetic word vomit would have to wait until the next morning. Halfheartedly wiping at the blood that was somehow still pouring down his face, he made his way up to the front door before hesitating. What if Phil was awake? The man had been nothing but kind and patient during the two weeks that Wilbur had spent with the family, and the boy wasn’t too keen on finding out what he was like when properly pissed off. After standing in front of the door for the better part of ten minutes, Wilbur shrugged to himself. Better get it done with now than in the morning. 

Instead of Phil, however, Wilbur was faced with the one person he probably would’ve wanted to see even less than his current guardian. In the hallway, sitting on the last steps of the staircase leading upstairs and to the bedrooms, was Technoblade, Wilbur’s maybe-semi-brother and quite literally the most terrifying person Wilbur knew. The pig hybrid, despite being shorter than Wilbur, could easily lift the other teen - a theory that had been tested multiple times, the first of which may or may not have ended with an unexpected panic attack and a stern-looking Phil giving Techno a lecture about physical boundaries- and had a reputation as a great fighter and an even better protector. 

So, due to the fact that Techno was nothing if not protective of his family, and that Wilbur, unbeknownst to himself, had quickly become a part of said family in Techno’s mind, any and all anger he might have held towards Wilbur was swept aside by his quickly-growing concern at the other teen’s state. Techno jumped to his feet and crossed the short distance between them in a few quick strides. 

“Wilbur, what the fuck did you do?” He grabbed Wilbur’s chin and tilted his face from side to side, his creased eyebrows and dark red eyes betraying the worry his monotone voice refused to show. 

“Don’t worry, the other guys looked way worse,” Wilbur said with a glint in his eyes and a smile that showed off his blood-stained, awl-like teeth. With a tug, he freed his head from Techno’s grip and took a step away from the teen. Unfortunately, Techno didn’t look as satisfied with the answer as Wilbur had hoped, and instead let out a sigh and grabbed Wilbur’s hand.

“C’mon, I’m cleaning you up,” he muttered, tugging at the hand in his grasp. With a frown, he seemed to only then notice the bright red, bloodied and split knuckles Wilbur was sporting, but didn’t comment on them. Instead, he just glared at Wilbur who was still refusing to move or even meet his brother’s eyes. “Hey, would you rather I go get dad to do it? Cause you know I will, if you don’t come. I gotta clean these, y’know, or they’ll get infected.” At the threat of involving their father, Wilbur’s head snapped up and he looked at Techno with something far too close to fear in his eyes. Techno narrowed his eyes before tugging on his hand again. “C’mon, lets go. Dad won’t be mad at you, okay? He’ll probably be worried more than anything. Just come with me and we’ll patch you up and you can talk with him in the morning, okay?”

Wilbur still didn’t quite trust Techno, but it wasn’t like he had too many options at the moment, so he took a small step towards Techno and the bathroom. Slowly, they made their way across the hallway and into the tiny bathroom, where Techno hit the light switch before leading Wilbur to sit on the closed toilet seat. Wilbur let out a hiss as the lights turned on and cursed whoever had invented fluorescent lights, while his brother busied himself with figuring out where the first-aid kit had been shoved to this time. After finally rescuing the pack from somewhere under the sink he turned back to his brother and quickly looked him over for injuries.

“Are you hurt anywhere else except for your nose and knuckles?” he asked quietly as he opened the first-aid kit and pulled out the disinfectant. At Wilbur’s silence, he turned to look at his brother with a raised eyebrow only to find him staring dazedly at the bathroom door. “Jesus Christ, Wilbur, you didn’t take something, did you?” Techno muttered and snapped his fingers in front of the other teen’s face. That seemed to gain his attention, at least, and he turned his unfocused eyes to Techno.

It’s not that Wilbur wanted to ignore what his brother was saying. He wasn’t trying to be annoying, okay, he hadn’t even taken any pills or anything - to his knowledge, anyway. But still, the facts were plain and simple: it was late-as-fuck-o’clock, the ache from his probably-broken nose had spread around his face and was now pulsating behind his eyes in a very-much-not-comfortable way, the spot where Wilbur’s head had made close contact with an unassuming brick wall felt like it was burning and overall, he felt like reused dog shit. His head was swimming and his eyes refused to focus on anything, and even attempting to string together enough words to explain the situation to Techno caused his headache to increase tenfold. 

Wilbur narrowed his eyes in an attempt to both focus his eyes on Techno and shut out as much of the horrible fluorescent light as possible. After a long moment, during which Techno had managed to become even more worried because what the fuck, Wilbur, what’s going on, Wilbur finally opened his mouth. “I think- I think my ribs might be bruised. I’m pretty sure that they’re bruised, actually, they hurt like a bitch. And oh, also, I think I hit my head at some point? I’m not sure, though. No, yeah I did. And I think I have bruises like, everywhere, but those will be fine. Bruises in places you didn’t even know could have bruises, you know?” 

Techno let out a long, weary sigh and took a moment to just stare at the ceiling. Wilbur, whose head was starting to reach levels of in pain that he hadn’t even known were possible, busied himself with trying not to throw up every time he moved his head. He stared at a single spot on the floor and concentrated on breathing until he saw Techno moving in his peripheral, and looked up to see the teen take a cloth in his hand and spray it with disinfectant. After a few minutes filled with increasingly creative curses and quiet apologies, Wilbur was far less bloody and far more ready to go to bed. Or cry. Or cry in bed, whatever worked. 

Techno finished wrapping up Wilbur’s hands and resetting his nose - causing even more curse words and, possibly, probably, a few tears from Wilbur- as quickly as possible. Then, his face twisted into a frown as he seemed to notice something.

“Wil, you know you shouldn’t wear a jacket over your wings, we’ve been over this a thousand times,” he muttered, tugging at the denim jacket that was currently hanging over Wilbur’s shoulders. “It’ll cause them to tear, and fixing them will be a pain in the ass, c’mon.” Despite his scolding, his words held no heat and instead of annoyance, his eyes were filled with something akin to sadness that Wilbur didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about. Not wanting to be any more of a burden than he already was - always, always a burden, wasn’t he? How could he think he was anything but?- he shrugged the jacket off with no arguments, spreading his dragonfly wings slightly in the small space. 

“M’sorry,” he muttered, staring at the floor and decidedly ignoring his brother’s eyes. “Just, you know. Don’t like ‘em.” Above him, Techno sighed quietly.

“I know, Wil, but covering them will do you more harm than good, okay? Lets just finish fixing you up.” 

The rest of the night was spent in silence, broken only by muttered curses and quiet orders from Techno to sit there, look here, does this hurt, drink this, eat something, don’t press on that or it’ll tear. Finally, when the clock on the living room wall got closer to 4 AM than 3 AM, Techno announced that Wilbur could go to bed. Wilbur muttered a quiet “Thank you,” and watched as, after bidding him goodnight in the hallway upstairs, Techno disappeared into his own bedroom while yawning loudly. Then the teen slipped into his own room, closed the door behind himself, and fell onto his bed with tears already burning their way down his sore cheeks. Fuck this shit, he thought wholeheartedly, before promptly passing out in his day clothes that probably smelled like smoke and whatever-the-fuck-it-was that the London air was made of. He could deal with that shit tomorrow.


End file.
